


Mad Love

by teakturn



Series: Stiles & Peter Go Dark [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Stiles, Dark, F/M, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Manipulative Peter Hale, Manipulative Relationship, Obsessive Behavior, criminal minds au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-11-03 09:29:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10964442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teakturn/pseuds/teakturn
Summary: Stiles is a new agent at SIS, Supernatural Intelligence Sector, and he's ready to make a difference. Too bad his boss won't let him do anything other than desk work. So Stiles takes it upon himself to take on a case that will not only make his career, but will also put away one of the most dangerous Supernatural criminals in America; Peter Hale.Only little does Stiles know, he's not the only one with an agenda.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles was two hours early for work and eagerly standing in front of the sleek, modern office building that now served as the California branch of the Supernatural Intelligence Sector. He’d taken care to carefully style his hair, even battling with his cow lick with super strength pomade and a comb. He’d ironed his best slacks (his dad had the best look on his face when he asked to borrow the iron) and even found a fitting button up that didn’t ride too far up his wrists.

He was now, after years of toiling in the toilet bowl of higher education, Stiles Stilinski, the new Supervisory Special Agent for the SIS. He resented, his “supervisory” status, after working so hard in school and then even harder at the academy. It was kind of a slap in the face but Lydia, the newly appointed Communications Liaison, had put in a good word for him. If he puts up a fuss about starting virtually from the bottom, it’ll look bad on her. And Stiles already knew that you should _not_ make Lydia Martin look bad.

When the head of security, a bald black man with a stoic expression on his handsome face and the janitor, a sickly looking twenty something, finally arrived at exactly seven, Stiles couldn’t stop his leg from jiggling in excitement. Well, mostly from excitement. He’d been in kind of a rush this morning trying to make sure he ended up on time which meant he skipped breakfast. So he was currently being powered by two five hour energies poured into a generous cup of espresso. He estimated crash wouldn’t happen until lunch, and around then he’d have an excuse to re-up on the caffeine.

The only reason he had to down that much caffeine to begin with was because Stiles had forgotten that his clock hated him and often times took his setting an alarm as a joke. He didn’t mind being early, he’d rather be early and have a chance to get a look around his new job, than late and set a bad impression for his new team.

Yep, you heard him. Stiles has already been put on a _team_ in the newly opened California branch of the Supernatural Intelligence Sector. Why, do you ask, does he insist on saying the full name of the building every time he mentions it? Well, for one, he’s taken out several very scary loans so he could go to school and become Dr. Stilinski. So, he planned on using both his title and his new super important job in every conversation he has for the foreseeable future. Second, it’s just so freaking cool.

A long time ago, legal matters dealing with the Supernatural were handled by only the Supernatural. The government didn’t want to or know how to interfere with their laws so they quietly went along with them. Of course, that meant that humans could do horrible, horrible things to innocent people (like the Hunter faction that’s sprung up recently) and not be taken to trial. A werewolf could force the Bite onto some unsuspecting teen, freshwater Supernatural creatures found lakes and rivers and other small bodies of water and claimed them for themselves, and territory disputes led to innumerable casualties.

This was fine back in frontier times, but now that there’s such a thing as private property, things get really messy really fast.

So, a bunch of Supernaturals banded together with a few select politicians and created a bill that protects Supernaturals from hate crimes. In return they created SIS, the only government body able to investigate and imprison Supernaturals. It’s staff boasts over twenty different species, (this is before they opened the hiring pool up to those who hadn’t been granted clearance into a government job yet), and is made up of laws that try their best to respect every species of Supernatural.

Stiles, who spent undergrad pursuing a BA in Sociology and Engineering, felt that SIS was the only place he could work without hating his life forever. Also, the fact he’s one of the last twenty Sparks in existence, and they can’t refuse him work, doesn't hurt at all. Sparks are a powerful but overlooked bunch. If he plays his cards right he could be the new face of Spark civil rights. Which would look nice among his other meaningless pieces of paper, but would serve a greater purpose. 

The head of security walked Stiles through the sleek and opaque glass doors to a lobby area. There’s a large and long silver metallic desk, no doubt housing several camera feeds, and a bank of elevators behind a locked turnstile. Stiles was checked for metals with a wand, his messenger bag thoroughly emptied and checked, and the tiny potted succulent he’d brought for his desk uprooted and examined carefully.

Stiles didn’t mind the probing, and he only pouted when he saw his plant being assaulted, but he did whine when the head of security tried to reach for his glasses.

“Hey man I need these to see!” Stiles took a step back, and then another, waving his long gangly arms around to ward the security guard back. “You’ve checked everything but the backdoor can I go?”

The security guard rolled his eyes, and handed him his government issued id badge and a clipboard. That was it, no instructions, no wishes for good luck. Just a clipboard and a pen so fancy Stiles is sure it’s worth at least one of the textbooks he used to break his back to afford.

“Strong but silent type, eh?” Stiles snorted. He brought the pen and the clipboard closer and began to read over what it said. He’d already received his contract, he’s read through the tome they call the employee orientation at least twice so he knows he’s expected to keep his mouth shut about everything going in here, and aside from the application he hasn’t received any paperwork since. 

Stiles shot a longing look at his pile of things, still spread out across the desk top, and sighed before signing the paper and collecting his badge. What’s the point of reading it now? He already basically sold his soul and mind to the country, what could they possible take next?

He managed to put his tiny (bruised now, that jerk) succulent into it’s equally tiny pot once more. The contents of his messenger bag were returned to their rightful place, and Stiles managed to make a face as he left. He approached the swath of turnstiles, and looks down at the touch pad.

This was the first step, on the first day, at the very start of his career. He could have done anything else in the world, he had the multiple degrees and crippling debt to prove it, and he chose this.

Stiles could go all the way if he chose, this job is so new, the field itself is an undiscovered frontier. Stiles, now a pilgrim (without the genocide and vicious colonization) was taking his first step into a new land. 

With a deep breath to settle the butterflies currently cannon-balling in his stomach, Stiles slid his badge over the touch pad. There was a whirring sound, and he worried for a second that there was some mistake, that maybe he actually _wasn’t_ meant to be here. Maybe there was some mistake and some other guy unfortunate enough to be Stiles Stilinski is out there flipping burgers when he should have been here. Of course his fears are unfounded, the little clear glass “doors” whooshed open and he was in.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time the rest of his team and co workers trickle into the office, Stiles has prepared coffee and set up his desk exactly as he likes it. He doesn’t get an office, he’s not of rank yet, but he does get a swanky L shaped beauty with a single desktop and plenty of storage space. It’s a glorified cubicle, and if Stiles wasn’t so sure he’d be able to wiggle his way out of sitting at it all day, he’d be more disappointed.

Lydia is the first to arrive after Stiles. She looks shocked to see him so early, but also proud. They share a secret smile with one another. She went into the break room when she passed it, and came out with a tall travel mug, one she’d no doubt already claimed as her own. By the serene look on her face Stiles knew she'd had some of the coffee he made.

Stiles and maybe like, one other person knew exactly how Lydia liked her coffee. He took great pride in knowing that after a year of not sharing a small off campus apartment with her, he still knew her complicated coffee taste by heart. Of course, for as long as he drooled after her in undergrad and pined for her during grad school, the fact that he expected to forget anything about her seems kind of ambitious. 

After Lydia, came a slight Asian woman with a bright smile on her awestruck face. She was dressed more comfortably than Lydia had, and seemed to be eternally amazed by everything her eyes landed on. Backwards, she maneuvered the office, managed to completely circle the tiny cubicle farm before she set her sights on the level of offices slightly above them. She’s walking with her neck craned back, the better to see the gorgeous furnishings and architecture they’ve been afforded. Stiles can’t say he blames her.

The floors were some kind of heavy duty, stain resistant carpet. The room itself was a giant, multilevel square that boasted two conference rooms and eight offices and house a small gathering of six or so cubicles. The walls were painted an expensive looking cream, and although each office had blinds to afford its occupant security and privacy, all the walls facing the center of the cubicle pit were glass.

New Girl, as Stiles dubbed her, was on the first level filled with offices and boardrooms. When she completed her circle She began to walk backwards, towards a desk Stiles hopes she saw. But as her awestruck survey of the room brings her ever closer to a very new very painful looking desk, Stiles pre-winces in sympathy at how bad that’s gonna hurt.

“Hey watch out!” Stiles tries to warn, but his shout startled the young woman. She turned her head to look at him, still not looking where she's going. With lightning quick speed, she blurred to the left. A second of rushing air and she came to a stop in front of him, looking shocked and apologetic.

“Oh my God, did I hit you? Did I get you anywhere?” New Girl frantically flailed and puttered around him. She kept pausing to flash him a smile, “Hi, I’m Kira, and God! I’m so sorry. This is pretty much like the job I’ve ever gotten and it’s straight out of Grad school…”She paused, to worry an already abused looking nail. 

Stiles waved a hand, “I've done worse to myself. I once set myself on fire while having no flammable materials available to me. My dad called me a savant.” Stiles tried to laugh, but it came out forced and awkward.

Kira smiled, but then her face scrunched up as she tried to figure out how one could do such a thing. But Stiles knows that after a week of working with him she won't even question how such things are possible. 

“I know I should have probably been looking where I was going, but this place is so cool! I'd never expected to work in an office building of all things” Her smile was sweet, and her tone friendly. Stiles spared a really uncool moment to ponder the chance of them becoming friends or hooking up, but immediately dashed that idea when she pulled over the nearest desk chair to chat. 

She wanted a friend, the pretty ones always see him as just a friend. Stiles is way over the age where something like that would bother him. So he smiled, and sat at his desk too. 

“Totally, I-I totally get what you mean. I”m fine, by the way. And, Stiles.” Stiles winced, and tried to smile, “I’m...my name is Stiles Stilinski, how are you?” He could have shot himself in the foot and that would be a better first impression. Why is it that the first* thing he says to a pretty girl always so shitty? It's like he's cursed or something. The first time he met Lydia he'd called her hair a waterfall of strawberry lemonade and her perfume just as sweet. 

She rightly avoided even looking in his direction and Stiles couldn't even blame her. 

Kira, which is a nice name, smiled prettily and seemed to calm down at least a little bit. “Kira Yukimura, I’m the new Technical Analyst.” While Kira smiled and continued to talk like every other normal person in the world, Stiles’ mind crashed to a pretty abrupt halt.

“K-k-Kira Yukimura? As in THUNDRF0X? As in light of my life since 2012 when you hacked into the speaker system at Grand Central Station and played ABBA nonstop for eighteen hours!?” Stiles’ voice took on an embarrassing pitch, but Kira didn’t comment on it. Her face became adorably rose tinted, and she seemed to shrink on herself bashfully as she laughed and shrugged.

“Yeah that’s me, didn’t know anyone knew me by that name anymore. When you’re forcibly retired people try to erase themselves from your life pretty quickly.” Despite her sour words Kira’s smile never faltered. Stiles himself was still faltering and failing to find words to say. 

Kira had been the most fascinating project he’d ever had during one of his phases. She'd done something bad, like Big Bad, and Stiles had spent months trying to crack the case and figure out how she did it. His coding skills were nowhere near hers so he never could figure it out. And that only made the flame of his admiration for her work burn brighter. His obsession with THUNDRF0X lasted from the beginning of his hacktivist phase and that period of time he considered dropping out of school and becoming a philosopher for about two weeks.

Stiles then realizes they’re on the same team, “Do you think we’ll be working together often? Like going in the field and everything?”

“Only full agents can go into the field. Analysts stay here and hold down the fort.” a man, or well, _Dude_ comes in smoothly from the glass automatic doors separating their specific department from the rest of the building. He’s about Stiles’ height, but much more attractive and he had way more muscle. Stiles likes to call himself slender with a runner’s body even though he’s never been much of a runner. This guy, Dude*, actually does have a runner’s body. And a God’s body. And a surfer slash supermodel slash billionaire’s body. Pretty much the antithesis of Stiles’ body.

Stiles thinks he would hate that guy immediately, the same way he did when he met Jackson (ah, now _that_ was hate at first sight) if not for the cheery, affable look on Dude’s* face.

He waves to Lydia in her office, she merely blinks imperially from being glass, and he bounds over to Kira and Stiles like he really is that happy to see them. His brown skin glows under the fluorescent lighting, which in Stiles’ opinion just isn’t fair, and his equally brown eyes are as adorable as puppies. Something Stiles can tell gets him whatever he wants without much effort. 

_Dude_ goes right for Kira’s hand, thrusting it up and down enthusiastically, “I’m Scott McCall, former Marine, former California cop, and now: _New_ Special Agent.” Scott turned to Stiles, his smile just as bright as the one he’d given Kira, “Agent McCall and I know this is probably uncool to say but I am so _stoked_ to be here.” they all laugh at his enthusiasm, or maybe its a release of the anxiety they’d all been feeling before Scott’s introduction.

Because they were all new, they were all the new kids on the first day of school. There aren’t any clique’s, yet, but there’s still that fear you won’t get in one once they do form. Scott had such a calming, sure, and charming way about him, that you kinda just relaxed. Scott looked strong and capable, so it was easy to play off his energy and try to relax. 

If an Alpha werewolf like Scott McCall was relaxed and enjoying himself, that must mean they could relax and enjoy themselves too. 

Stiles is well aware of the pheromones coming off the young Alpha and how, even with his human nose, he and Kira are just preternaturally determined to be affected by them. He’s self taught but well trained in how to harness his Spark, and keep himself from being affected by an Alpha like this, but he didn’t want to go in on the defense on his first day.

“I’m Kira Yukimura, Technical Analyst.” Scott nodded enthusiastically, as if, “Of course! You’re the Technical Analyst. And that’s exactly what you should be because you’re amazing at it!” 

So Stiles, wanting some of the love said, “I’m one of the _New_ Special Agents as well.” Scott reared back like that was the best news he’d heard all day, “No way dude that’s awesome!” There was a hug, which Stiles can admit he made linger just a tad more than was acceptable, and then Lydia decided to grace the mortals with her holy presence.

She approached with a cool, blank but focused look on her beautiful face. She wore makeup, something that made her perfect porcelain complexion look even better and a coral lip color that really brought out the green in her eyes. If Stiles was still in love with her, and not currently drooling at the way Scott’s pants hung on his ass, he could honestly say he’d want to propose to her right then and there. Lydia looked fierce, professional, and in control. Something that’s impossible for Stiles which he finds unfair because they’re the same age!

Lydia sweetly introduces herself to Kira, “Nice to meet you Ms. Yukimura.” and her gaze turns soft, but dull when she looks over at Scott. “I’ve read a lot about you, Captain McCall. Your good reputation precedes you.” Scott somehow has the grace to blush, and Stiles is instantly smitten. Then he sees the look on Scott’s face as he shakes Lydia’s hand, also instantly smitten. Can you believe it? ‘Cause Stiles sure can.

The cute, successful ones are always straight.

“Lydia, as beautiful as ever.” Stiles pretended to bow his head, and Lydia let a warm smirk crack her businesslike facade.

“Stiles,” Lydia said with more humor and emotion in her voice than her expression betrayed. She actually forwent the cool distance she kept between herself and everyone else, and gave him a hug. Stiles was too shocked to reciprocate, all his teenage fantasies happening at once and he couldn't decide between cumming in his pants and doing something drastic. Lydia ended the hug quickly, and turned to Kira to talk about something Stiles didn’t think he’d want to listen to.

He loved Lydia, but he’s also aware she’s the only reason he’s even here right now. Sure, his portfolio and application was solid, but he’s not a certified genius like Lydia. He just a Spark from a small town in Nevada, who has photographic memory and a Ph. D. His IQ is nowhere near her’s. When they first met she was pursuing her Masters in Political Science and her Doctorate in Astrophysics while he was still working on his Bachelors in Engineering.

When he turns to Scott, already recalculating how he’ll see him now that Stiles knows that Scott isn’t gay, he tries to come up with something witty and relatable. Of course, the Stilinski family luck comes to play and Scott had already moved on. When Stiles finally locks eyes on him, he's off talking to a twink with tawny blonde curls and cheekbones that could probably cut glass. 

Fuck! Stiles couldn't even be mad, given the chance he’d be over there talking to that guy too.

With Lydia and Kira bonding over their love for world domination and Scott picking up the receptionist not even five feet away from his desk, Stiles has no one else to talk to. The rest of their team hasn’t even arrived yet, and already Stiles’ anxiety is creeping up on him. He knows it’s stupid to let the fact that he’s no longer talking to anyone in a room full of people bother him. It’s idiotic, because no one’s judging him because he’s sitting alone at his desk. And yeah, it sucks, being the only one here who doesn’t have someone to talk to. But at least he had his desk, and various tchotchkes to organize and place on said desk. 

At least he's not like Lydia, forced by virtues of his position to meet and intermingle with everybody in their department. Her upward mobility relied on her ability to talk to people and at her age she certainly has something to prove. 

Which, now that he thinks about it, isn’t even an insult. Lydia has accomplished so much more than him. Hell, she’s ranked above him, as if that wasn’t enough of a sign that she’s superior. 

But that doesn’t bother him! Of course not! _Why_ would that bother him? It’s not like he’s been in love with her since undergrad. It’s not like he hasn’t played best friend after she broke up with guy after guy because they couldn’t “handle her ambition”. It’s not like he wasn’t there right with her, late night studying, giving up his social life to get more work done.

Stiles falls into his seat in a foul mood and tries to hide it by setting up his desk. It’s still morning, it’s still the first day. Once he’s done fixing up his desk he’ll go to the bathroom and just hit reset on this whole morning.

 _Yeah_ , Stiles thinks, that’ll be a good thing, a rest. I refuse to let my first day at the start of my **dream** career be ruined by shitty intrusive _thoughts_.

With that thought in mind, Stiles set to organizing his desk with a single minded intensity that might have scared even the most ardent of interior decorating enthusiasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys if you have any questions or would just like to yell with glee in my general direction, this is my [twitter](https://twitter.com/honeyfoxspring), here is my tumblr, and of course you can leave a comment.


	3. Chapter 3

The second team in their department arrived while they were still missing their last team member and Unit Chief, and Stiles is shocked to see another group of twenty somethings. It was so baffling that it had Stiles scratching his head. It made a sort of sense for the government to hire Scott, Lydia, Kira and Stiles to some extent. Kira was an excellent hacker, probably the best in her generation, their only option would be to hire her or kill her, because someone will always be looking to work with someone of her caliber. Lydia is quite literally a genius and Scott is a decorated veteran and former cop. 

Exceptions can be made in positions such as theirs, with a branch of government so new that there aren’t many people you can call experts in the field. But that doesn’t mean they have to hire every twenty something with something a little not human in them.

The other team consist of Alpha twins, a cute guy with dimples (who’s giving Scott a run for his money for nicest hottie in the room), and a tall blonde werewolf. She looks more feline, than canine, and Stiles can tell she’s already set her sights on him for first office hookup. Stiles just hopes to _God_ she doesn’t ever hear him when he’s found a clue or come up with a new theory. It’s a total boner killer and she won’t be able to see him as anything else than the genius kid.

He’s learned his lesson since Lydia. He may have gained an awesome, probably lifelong, friend in her, but that’s not what he’d wanted in the beginning.

The unit chief for Stiles’ team turns out to be _The_ Dr. Deaton, one of the Druids who drafted and signed the controversial bill that made SIS possible. He was an Emissary to two different, powerful packs, and when he retired he spent the rest of his career helping law enforcement and the Supernatural settle disputes.

Stiles begins bouncing in his seat when he realizes he’s going to work with his childhood hero. Like, literally work for the man who made his life’s work possible. Stiles immediately stands up to offer the doctor a chair, “Dr. Deaton if I may, I’d like to offer you the chair I assembled and brought from home to you. It has great lumbar support and seamless adjustments.”

That’s what he wants to say. What comes out of his mouth, however, is more like, “Dr. Deaton! Its- Lids, It’s. AH.” and then he dissolves into a fit of giggles. Scott is the only one who, wisely, guides him back into his seat. Deaton just raises an eyebrow, but ultimately he seems unperturbed.

“I know that I am one of the most distinguished and knowledgeable people in this room,” Deaton, the man who is probably Stiles’ reason for breathing at this point, begins. “But I am not here to be your Unit Chief,” Stiles whimpers, “I am here to merely observe, and to offer guidance and information.”

Lydia, because she’s Lydia, is the first to raise her hand. In her lap is a mint colored notepad, above it, hovers a magenta colored pen. Already there are little notes and charts written down, and if Stiles knows Lydia he knows that she’ll go home and rewrite them. She’ll color code and then file it away to be used later on.

“Which team will you be working on?” Lydia asks.

“I’ll be working in tandem with Agent Hale. He’ll introduce me to his team as soon as he meets them.” The rest of the room, content with his straightforward answer, seems about ready to return to their previous conversations. Or, in Erica’s case, start a new one.

But Lydia wasn’t done, “And will your role on Agent Hale’s team be merely supervisory or will you have any jurisdiction?”

Deaton’s poker faced twitched slightly, in amusement maybe, and he answered carefully. “I do outrank Agent Hale, yes. But it is not my job to babysit him on his cases. I’m merely here to offer my expertise.”

“And to watch how your program is being run.” Lydia added acerbically.

Stiles looked between the two of them, and saw a quiet battle of the minds going on. Deaton looked mildly disquieted, Lydia looked determined. For a second that lasted way too long, the entire room just watched them stare at one another. Only Lydia could basically question the man who has her entire career in his hand, and not worry about the consequences. Stiles wasn’t even the one in the battle of wills with Dr. Deaton and he was sweating bullets.

“I’ll admit that my reasons for being here aren’t entirely altruistic-”

“Or at all,” Lydia gently interrupts. Deaton pauses in his speech to give her a thin lipped smile.

“I know Agent Hale personally, I knew his mother Senator Hale, and his father. I watched him rise through the academy and I saw him persevere through some trying times to be the honorable man I know today.” Deaton paused to turn look at everyone else in the room, “If you’re worried about my being an overseer or a secret boss, you don’t have to be. I’m here for the same reasons you are, I want Supernatural criminals to be tried fairly and humanely, and I want it to be the standard set for the rest of the world.” 

Speech over, Deaton walked over to their side of the cubicle farm, and then Stiles realized (dumbly) that Deaton _was_ their missing member. Stiles swung around in his chair, searching for some camera or maybe even Ashton Kutcher, after all these years, performing the longest prank in history. But no such luck. Deaton sat next to Scott and Lydia, and Stiles struggled to find something to say to his childhood hero. Scott, the real MVP, saw his dilemma and immediately turned to Dr. Deaton.

“Stiles here based his entire career off of your work, I’m sure he has questions for you. Right Stiles?” Scott looked over at Stiles hopefully, and Stiles briefly reconsidered ever making Lydia his best friend. Briefly, because the second Deaton turned his eyes on him Stiles lost all coherent thought.

“Is that so, Mr..” Deaton looked at him expectantly.

“Uh-uh, Stiles. My name is Stiles Stilinski and I followed your career because my dad was a cop, he’s retired now, and he encouraged me to find other cops like me. It wasn’t easy for a human to raise a Spark and he really wanted me to find my own role models which is how-” he paused to take a deep breath, “I found you! And your work, of course. It was uh, let me see, crap I remember, It was that case! The one with the property dispute between a Beta and her Alpha over her Druid girlfriend! Man the way you handled that case, bringing the Constitution in it and the Bill of Rights! How... I-I should probably breathe right? I don’t think I’ve taken a breath in a-”

“Stiles, honey. Air.” Lydia rubbed his back soothingly, and coached him through a few slow inhales and exhales but how could he _not_ ramble when his hero was literally sitting right in front of him?

No one had ever brought human laws into Supernatural disputes, it just wasn’t done. Human laws were too vague, too tame, and oftentimes came _after_ Supernatural law. Deaton, was able to free a woman, a Druid Emissary to a powerful pack, from her contract with a crazed Alpha. She’d gone to the cops, but their solution usually involved dead Supernaturals, and the courts wouldn’t touch it. Deaton was the only one who would help and he literally saved two women from a tyrant. 

Do you know what that meant to Stiles growing up?

“Thank you for you admiration. It was a tough case, one that almost didn’t end well for anyone. Is that what your role on the team Stiles?” Deaton spoke so calmly and graciously that Stiles felt a little of his mania die down.

“Oh- no! You see I’m a profiler of sorts. I take data and information and I compile them into a usable form for my team. My expertise is in the criminal mind: why criminals do what they do, what stimuli led them down that path, and how to better rehabilitate them. I did my grad school thesis on megalomaniacs and trauma leading to varied forms of psychosis.”

Deaton looked impressed, “I didn’t know those two concepts intercepted.”

Stiles immediately sat up in his seat in excitement, “Oh of course, of course. Take, for instance, the prevalence of the nice guy trope or ‘fedora dude’ as my peers like to call them. Their a classification of nerd who, ostracized or bullied by the majority, turned inward and focused solely on the fictional worlds of video games, comic books, and anime. They adopt this gentlemanly persona, claiming to be saviors of women and ‘better’ than their Alpha male counterparts.

“Generally they’re not. Just the assumption that by treating women the way they should they’re supposed to be rewarded makes them no better than the men they claim to be better than. Now, individually, these men are weak. But, when grouped together-”

“Stiles,” Lydia, gently prodded, “I don’t this is the appropriate place to discuss this. It would be better, and more professional, if you just emailed Deaton a copy of your thesis at a later date.” Lydia turned to Deaton and smiled sweetly, “Wouldn’t that be better?”

Deaton nods in compliance, and then hands Stiles a business card. It takes some maneuvering, Scott and Lydia are still between them, but they manage.

“Feel free to email me any time. I’m very intrigued by your work and I’d like to know how you think it could further benefit what we’re trying to do here.”

And that, is when Stiles decided to rethink his earlier plan to restart the day. His first day at work is once again perfect and amazing and he can’t wait to really get into the nitty gritty. He wants to work on cases, he wants to help people. He wants to show Deaton what he can do and, hopefully, become his protege one day.


	4. Chapter 4

When Agent Hale did actually make his appearance, it was to briefly introduce himself to his team, and then hand them all case files. He told Kira to look up the victims and find any connection she can, he told Lydia to contact the town’s government and police force to see if they’ve done anything to help the victim, and Stiles and Scott were left to read over the case file and figure out what they could.

Kira went to her office, Lydia went to her office, Scott and Stiles were left at the cubicle farm with mountains of paperwork, while Deaton and Agent Hale retreated to Deaton’s office.

It was, to say the least, a pretty bitter disappointment.

Don’t get him wrong! Stiles loved the work. Piecing together loose information and making connections, he set up a message group for their team, so that each of them could give the rest of the team instant information. He and Scott managed to contact the parents of the deceased, and get a few statements from her coven. It wasn’t much, compared to what Lydia and Kira were doing. But Stiles felt justly accomplished.

Until Agent Hale slapped another case on his desk. It was a murder, something gruesome and gory. It reminded him of a horror film, only that blood was real, and that body was never going to be doing anything ever again. An Alpha had found his mate with another woman, and he snapped and killed them both. Her pack wanted him to be arrested, and stripped of his Alpha power. The local government wasn’t doing much of anything to help.

There were more cases like this, vindictive witches cursing cheating boyfriends never made it farther than Lydia’s desk. But the truly horrific cases, where people were killed because of jealousy, sacrificed for power, or killed themselves playing with magic they weren’t supposed to, those are the ones Agent Hale chased after.

The other team that shared their department, pretty much handled everything else. Petty territory disputes between Alphas, treaties, humane ritual practices. Occasionally they’d go out in the field, to do what Stiles never knows. But they always come back with fro-yo and an unbelievable to story to tell. They’re coasting while Stiles in his team put in back breaking work all day.

It doesn’t help that their Unit Chief, who insists that everyone call her Morrell, is so freaking mysterious all the time. That whole side of the room could be going on heists and Stiles wouldn’t know because their all sworn to secrecy and he’s not really allowed to ask about their cases.

He knows his work is important but he expected more. He expected them to handle complex cases, where the MO of their UNSUB is intricate and indicative of a childhood trauma or something. Instead it’s typically Alpha’s abusing their power, Beta’s trying to start a coup, or Witches cursing an entire town. There are victims yes, but most of what they do is consultory. They talk to packs, Emissaries, local law enforcement, and sometimes Hunters.

Which, don’t even get him started because he could go on a whole rant about why working with Hunters is a shitty idea.

Not that Derek will listen to him. Agent Hale has a perpetual stick up his ass, and Stiles can usually tell how awful he’ll be by how low his eyebrows rest on his face. Stiles will greet his Unit Chief, his boss, the person who figuratively signs his paychecks, with complete profiles on their suspects and victims and try to pitch a case he had Isaac (the cutey with the cheekbones) print up for him.

Derek will accept the coffee, give his completed cases a cursory glance, and then shut his office door in Stiles’ face. Not really conducive to a blossoming work relationship. Scott, his new work best-friend (and yes Stiles feels super cool saying he has a work best-friend) will listen to him rant and rave about their asshole of a boss, and then ask Stiles to help him come up with something to text Lydia. The poor fool had decided that Lydia was the girl of his dreams and she wasn’t giving him the time of day outside of work.

Stiles will then complain to his dad, and you’d think that a father would be on his son’s side. But, no. Stiles didn’t get to luck out with those parents who tried to be your friend and never really disciplined you. Instead he was a cop's son. His father took express interest in his whereabouts and made sure to keep him on task all throughout high school. His father was also, an expert on Stiles which meant that generally, he was never on Stiles’ side.

“He’s your boss, not your friend. That man has no reason to listen to any of your suggestions.” Stilinski senior, former Sheriff of the LVMPD, liked to dispel wise wisdom to his son during their weekly Sunday night chats. The former Sheriff was a simple man, with strong morals and values that Stiles likes to believe have at least rubbed off on him a little. He already knows though, that his dad will not be taking his side on this one.

“Okay, true. That’s true. But-” Stiles began, his dad sighed into the phone.

“Please don’t say ‘but’, Every time I’ve ever heard you say ‘but’ you spouted off some nonsense.” the Sheriff’s voice grew fainter, and in the background Stiles could hear the refrigerator door opening.

“No dad it’s different this time.” Stiles insisted. That just prompted another sigh.

“Which means it isn’t.” There was some rummaging in the background, “Hey do you remember if I ate all that stir fry you made for me last week? I’m looking in the fridge and all I see is brown rice pilaf and salmon.”

“Check the freezer.” Stiles replied automatically. While his dad followed his instructions, Stiles tries to restart his argument.

“All I’m saying is that if he just _listened_ and treated us like a team, I feel like we could get a lot more done and further our reach. There’s an evaluation coming up and the Secretary of Defense plans on coming down to see our facilities. It would be amazing to show her something concrete, to show her we’re doing more than sitting on our laurels and making phone calls.”

His dad hummed on the other side to show he was listening, but his attention was focused on plating his left overs and putting them in the microwave. Stiles himself was sat on his dinky little couch in his tiny apartment. He’d just gotten home from a long day of reading case files and doing absolutely nothing else productive or even memorable. 

He loved his job, that wasn’t the problem. Stiles thought what they did was important and vital to the future of human and Supernatural relations. He just thinks the way they’re going about it is too tame. Why aren’t the looking into Omega rampage killers, Fae arsonists, Darach serial killers? They were out there and they were dangerous. In his hometown the solution handling “maladjusted” Supernaturals was to put them down like animals. And speaking as someone with a Bachelor's in Psychology, he knows that doesn’t solve anything.

“Stiles its a job, and he’s your boss. You’re just starting out. I know you want the adventure, the guts, the glory. But real police work just isn’t like that. There’s paperwork. There are weeks where you never leave your desk. You just wait, soon enough you’ll be off and traveling the country hunting these criminals and you’ll wish for a day of paperwork.” his dad, chuckled, and Stiles could hear him taking his food out of the microwave.

“Just give it some time kiddo, you’ll be out there and making a name for yourself in no time.” his dad said soothing.

Stiles groaned and threw himself back against his couch like the moody teenager he fought so hard to never be, “Dad it’s not about _that_.”

It was kinda, sorta, exactly about that. His father, now retired, was a decorated Marine. He went on to join the police force in his small hometown, and then made a name for himself as a deputy. He had a chance, once, to join the FBI or even the CIA, but then Stiles’ mom got sick and things just fell apart for both of them. After his mom died during his junior year in college, his father retired and now lived modestly but comfortably on his retirement money.

He doesn’t understand how badly Stiles needs to make his mark _now_ , while he’s young and his field is still unexplored. Dr. Deaton, his father, hell even Scott, have all made names for themselves. Lydia has made a name for herself, Kira has made a name for herself. The other day, while hiding from Erica in the supply closet, he found out that she used to be an epileptic. After she petitioned for and was granted the Bite, she dedicated her new lease on life to the study of epilepsy. She’s like the poster child for pro-bite propaganda and better treatment for differently abled people.

He was a small fish in a new pond filled to the brim with fish big enough to eat him! How can his dad expect him to just be okay toiling away in obscurity while his contemporaries are surpassing him by leaps and bounds! It’s not fair!

“Look kiddo, I gotta go. But remember to call me next Sunday. Don’t make waves, just do your job and do it well. _That’s_ what will get you recognized.” Stiles said goodbye to his dad and kept the phone in his hand even after they hung up.

His dad just didn’t get it. Stiles was meant for something greater, he could feel it. He just didn’t know what he should be doing.


	5. Chapter 5

The week that Secretary of Defense Satomi is scheduled to visit their department, Stiles is sitting at his desk and staring at two flash drives. One, contains all of their case work for the first three months of their instatement. The other, contains Stiles’ plans for how they could further their reach past petty criminals and disputes to actually handling mentally disturbed offenders.

Stiles has tried since that first week to get Derek to look at cases, and each time he said the same thing:

_“That’s Agent Hale, to you.”_

_“We don’t have time for cases like these.”_

_“That’s not our jurisdiction.”_

_“Is that whole milk or soy?”_

Okay that last one was definitely in regards to the fact that Stiles has unofficially become Coffee Guy. No one in this office can make a decent cuppa to save their life. And since Stiles basically lives off caffeine, there’s no way he can _not_ make the coffee. Not to mention it's the only way he can even get Derek to talk to him. He usually holed up in his office or, when they’re having a meeting in the conference room, talking to someone else.

Stiles did his research, he knew the Secretary would want results, innovation, something that she could bring back to DC and be proud of. As one of the few werewolves still in office there was a lot riding on the success of SIS. Along with Deaton she had personally backed the plan to create SIS in the first place. She’d want to hear about ways to improve it.

Showing her this flash drive would throw his team under the bus. The meeting is only a few hours long, and if he starts with the data he collected there’s no way Derek won’t fire him. It’ll become this whole thing and it’ll make Derek look like a joke. 

Stiles looks away from the flash drives, and watches Scott and Kira flirt as they pretend to be filing. Derek and Lydia are stone faced and serious, as they talk with Morrel and Deaton in one of the conference rooms. It’s something serious, Stiles knows, and he can’t help but feel it has something to do with the Secretary and her visit.

Suddenly, Stiles sprung into action. Sitting up at his desk he emailed Lydia, and begged her for information regarding their meeting with the Secretary. After he hit send, he looked over at her standing in the conference room. She peeked down at her phone once, and he can tell he piqued her interests. It’s not very often Stiles sends an urgently worded email asking to see their itinerary for the day Secretary Satomi was scheduled to show.

She glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow, and he clasped his palms together devoutly. _Oh please Patron Saint Lydia. Give me this one blessing._

Her suspicious gaze never faltered, but he watched her send him the itinerary nonetheless. Stiles gave his friend a grin, and then immediately pour himself over the itinerary. 

Satomi is scheduled to arrive in his department at eleven, she met with his team personally after a tour of their facilities, and there’s supposed to be a recess at one. If, and this is probably the most important _if_ the world has ever seen, he can switch the files in the conference room out with his* flash drive. Satomi could at least see part of the work he and his co workers have been doing the last three months.

Results, at least, are better than speculation. Stiles could use their success and (relative) ease with their work to propose an expansion. He wouldn’t expect the government to pay anything out of pocket, mixing the cases of Supernatural serial killers with the cases of Alphas gone feral isn’t too much of a stretch. They could even start with Eichen House, it’s local so Stiles could drive there on his way to work, and it’s a government facility so they’re at least a little bit required to cooperate.

Stiles’ mood lifts as his plan comes together, and he spends the rest of his work day smiling down at his computer like an idiot. Even when Derek drops seven cases down on his desk right before he’s due to leave, the smile never leaves his face. He notices more than one of his coworkers looking a little disturbed by his happiness (with the exception of Danny because he’s just that sweet), but he didn’t care.

Hell, he even gave Erica his number and agreed to a vague promise of drinks in the nearby future. 

Stiles was gonna get his way and no one would be hurt.


	6. Chapter 6

Okay he may have lied about no one getting hurt. You see, he’d forgotten that if he went against direct order, Derek would quite possibly murder him. The man already had a short fuse when it came to Stiles, and barely tolerated him on a good day. And Lydia might _literally_ emasculate him. When she asked him why he needed the itinerary, the way he expected her to, he panicked and said he had a date with Erica afterwards and he wanted to know how long the meeting would last.

In a way, he didn’t lie. He and Erica actually do have a date coming up. There’s just no date...for the date. As far as he knows. It was more like Erica called out, “Stilinski lets get drinks some time!” From across the parking lot where she was standing with the front desk security guard. The very same asshole who uprooted Stiles’ succulent. 

He’d been startled because he’d been so focused on his thoughts he hadn’t realized there was anyone else in the parking lot with him. So, without thinking he’d said, “Sure thing, man.” and that was that. Stiles now had a date with Erica. Lydia was suitably impressed when he informed her of his date, and told him that she expected him to send her pictures of his outfit for the big night.

“You don’t think I can dress myself,” Stiles cried in mock indignation.

Lydia, who had already begun to walk away, snorted and turned back to him with a knowing look in her eyes. “Stiles, I lived with you. I know you can’t dress yourself.”

Stiles spent the days preceding Secretary Satomi’s arrival editing both the flash drives containing the cases his team has already worked on and his personal work. Normally, Kira would be the one presenting it to the Secretary (she _the one that handled almost all their technical stuff) but apparently she wouldn’t even be in the meeting._

_“Conflict of interest.” Lydia said in a bored tone. They were at Starbucks, waiting for their order, and Lydia was watching the barista like a hawk._

_“How so?” Stiles, was thinking of switching to tea. His sleeping schedule has been surprisingly good, he hasn’t really needed coffee to wake up the morning for about two weeks now. But Lydia insisted on buying and who is he to say no to a free drink?_

_“Satomi is an old family friend of Kira’s mom. She’s actually the reason Kira isn’t rotting in a prison now actually. She helped get her a plea bargain to work for the government.” Lydia didn’t say anything more on that topic for the rest of the day, but Stiles couldn’t stop thinking about it._

_He knew of the Yukimura’s, although the family as a whole tried to stay out of Supernatural politics. He knew that Kira’s mother was a therapist who specialized in kitsune patients and kitsune patients only. Stiles didn’t know why, but for some reason the fact that Kira’s mom specialized in the Supernatural mentally ill, seemed important to him. The thought wouldn’t leave his head for the whole day._

_On the actual day of Secretary Satomi’s visit, Stiles found himself standing in the conference room, staring blankly at his team and the Secretary. Derek glared hard enough to burn a hole through his skull, Lydia looked so disappointed, and Scott gave him sympathetic puppy dog eyes. He desperately wished Kira was here, she’d at least wince in sympathy._

_The Secretary’s face betrayed nothing. For all he knew she’d mentally checked out the moment they all sat down. Unfortunately Stiles’ luck doesn’t work like that. She’s definitely paying attention. He can tell, her eyes just went from distant and clouded over, to very alert and very focused on him. He raises a hand in a shallow wave, and she smiles (or smirks) indulgently._

_She looks like a little ol’ grandma, in stately wear. Stiles tries to lock onto that image, a woman close to his Baba’s age wearing a power suit and power pearls. It relaxes him somewhat, and he finds himself picking up the remote for the projector and starting the visual presentation._

_“In our sector of SIS, my team and I have been able to solve, settle, and clean up over fifty cases since we opened three months ago.” Satomi looks surprised, and she shares a look with her assistant before looking back at the info graphics Kira and Stiles painfully created for each slide._

_He’s not surprised they think he’s exaggerating for the sake of the team. But he’s honestly not. So most of their work was done over the phone and occasionally Deaton and Derek will take the jet (I know! right?) over to the town or city or whatever and then finish it together. They keep cases on a steady rotation and do multiple at a time so that as one case is finishing up another case is being opened. He’s surprised they haven’t done hundreds of cases yet, all those files certainly felt like there should be hundred of cases sitting at his feat with a big fat DONE stamp across it._

_Stiles moves slide through slide showing her the data they collected on which species was more aggressive to their interference to those who seemed almost grateful for it. He went through four of their best cases, as well as one case that they solved but without any survivors. The room grew somber at that, but Secretary Satomi kept her reactions to herself. Stiles talked until Lydia’s phone chimed, signaling the recess._

_Derek was the first to stand, “Secretary if you would follow me I can show to the best restaurant within walking distance to this building.” the Secretary nodded her thanks, cast one more appraising look at Stiles, and then allowed them to escort her from the room. Lydia lingered behind a moment, to cast impressed, and proud he hopes, eyes on him._

_She gifts him with a small smile, “Good work Stilinski. You actually looked competent up there.” Stiles rolls his eyes at her, but she shoots him one last soft, fond smile, before hurrying to catch up with Derek and the Secretary._

_When Stiles locks eyes with Scott, all the other man does is blink and then let a blinding smile split across his face, “Dude!” he exclaims, before wrapping a bashful Stiles into a bear hug and shaking him._

_“Dude!” Scott exclaims again. Stiles laughs and pats his friend on the back, “I know buddy, thanks for the support. Now I don’t feel like a total moron for wasting so much time just freaking out.”_

_Scott waves it away, “It was barely noticeable.” Stiles glares at him, and then Scott shrugs. His grin is almost dopey as he says, “Well it wasn’t that bad. Everyone’s under the same pressure, we’re all knew to this. Plus everyone know’s Satomi is really important.”_

_Stiles sighs and tries to take his friend’s words to heart._

_When Scott finally leaves to get them both burritos, Stiles sets quickly to work on the projector. He switches USB’s, and then pulls up the power point he made specifically for this. The first slide is the last slide they used in the previous presentation, so he can pretend to start where he left off. Once he sets it all up, he puts the computer in sleep mode and then leaves the room as fast as possible. He realizes that it's probably the best way to get caught, running away from the scene of the crime. But he kind of feels spooked, and would rather distance himself from what he’s done._


End file.
